


Layers of Transparency

by Kisuru



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Codependency, Domestic, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Obsession, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Psychological Drama, Resurrection, Sibling Incest, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16036484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/pseuds/Kisuru
Summary: Sasuke settles at what remains of his old home at the Uchiha compound for the long haul, willing to live there under the village's supervision after his rise against it. That is, as long as he is left alone.One day, Itachi realizes this is Sasuke's fate. Sasuke resurrects him and promises they will be together. Over time, Sasuke's direct romantic advances on him are far from the confused and misguided brother he remembers leaving, and his own platonic feelings for his brother are tested.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story ended up on the longer side, but I hope this fic has the dark and creepy vibe you like for these two.

The breath of life drawn back into his lungs nearly suffocated him. Thickly, he coughed as the burn of oxygen returned to his lungs. He rolled on dirt, kicking up dust and chakra.  
  
Itachi had forgotten reality’s agony.  
  
A hand was held out to him. The unstable chakra above him crackled. The raw energy circulated with unmistakable familiarity.  
  
Itachi wasn’t willing to accept the gesture.  
  
“—unfair — tired — ready—” Sasuke’s voice was distant in his ears. Come to think of it, he didn’t think he was directly speaking to him.  
  
Itachi was alive. What purpose did it serve?  
  
After the resurrection, he was unamused. He had bid his farewells as per his wishes. Anger coursed within him. When Itachi found his bearings he would voice his discontent.  
  
Like most things, he never did.  
  
Feelings of separation weren’t that simple.  
  
The things that he pretended to ignore but cared for. The fact he hadn’t seen Sasuke in who knows how long. The compulsion Itachi shouldn’t discard this chance. There was more to the situation than what first met the eye.  
  
He succumbed to his own devotion.  
  
Instead, he took Sasuke’s hand. The enormity of his brother’s _relief_ was palpable. Slender yet blistered fingers clasped his wrist.  
  
“Stay together from now on,” Sasuke said. His words were rushed. He practically choked on them. The next bit was crystal clear, as much as a promise any. “Us. No one else.”  
  
Itachi exhaled. His thumb brushed his pulse point, and Sasuke’s heartbeat thrummed.  
  
Yes, Itachi had a traitorous urge to stay alive despite every principle of his original lifetime.  
  
He should remain dead. Once back from the dead was too many times. Life always died no matter what. With reservations, though, he rejected his own harsh lesson from the Third Shinobi World War. It wasn’t his selfishness that sealed the deal. Once he felt the plea of loneliness in Sasuke’s actions, he forgot how to let go. His voice was honey — it had been forever since he had heard him spit the vitriol of revenge; even then it was well welcome — and the richness of it captured Itachi whole.  


* * *

  
“Be careful,” Sasuke warned.  
  
“Look at who’s talking after exerting yourself,” Itachi remarked dryly. He wished he checked the cold ring to his tone, but circumstances forced him on-edge. The robe Sasuke had offered felt itchy on his skin, and he focused on that constant sensation to calm himself.  
  
Really, they were both ragged, but Sasuke did everything not to show he was ruffled.  
  
Itachi stepped onto the engawa and paused. Sasuke had a determined hold on his arm and carefully directed him to their destination.  
  
The entire time Itachi had known where they were. He had hang-ups. His shortcomings were inextricably rooted, but he had chosen his fate. It was time to face it. Precisely, the ruin of bloodshed and responsibilities he had not laid eyes on since the age of thirteen.  
  
The home he abandoned.  
  
The cherry on top was Sasuke leading him to the door without once stopping, as though he believed Itachi had an honorable right. And he didn’t have the will to protest in lieu of the gravity of his feelings. The atmosphere had an eerie scent of ancient chakra and iron and stale arguments that chafed old wounds.  
  
The creak at the doorway gave it all away.  
  
It was like a dream. As soon as they entered the living room, they both passed out from the exhaustion of walking the distance there, falling on the floor. Sasuke recovered before Itachi and arranged him so he was properly sitting in a chair when he woke up. Sasuke had the foresight to set out a pair of clothes at Itachi’s feet, and he changed into them. He handed him a cup of tea and he sipped it.  
  
Itachi didn’t have to see to know it was dark outside. The cicadas were louder than the daytime. Apparently hours had gone by.  
  
Not being able to see was new for Itachi – he had been near blindness before death. It was awkward to be near Sasuke and recall (what he had imagined to be) their last moments, but he made no mention of it immediately, and having Sasuke there was reassuring.  
  
The tea burned his throat. It felt real. He did, too. He truly had committed himself to this.  
  
“They’ll leave us be,” Sasuke murmured. There was a shift and a rustle. Again, he didn’t sound like he addressed Itachi for answers, but he was the only one there.  
  
Itachi looked over his cup as if to send him the signal to continue, but Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He placed the bottom of the cup on his knee and heat burned his skin through the thin, black training pants.  
  
“I want you to be a part of the village.”  
  
“No.”  
  
And the reasons went unarticulated, but Itachi knew he had not relinquished blame from Konoha’s shoulders. He may never.  
   
Sasuke was alone. And the truth he didn’t actively reach out to any friends, let alone his previous team, became alarmingly obvious.  
  
“I have what the village doesn’t. They won’t,” Sasuke added. There was a pause, and Itachi was surprised he couldn’t read his monotone. “I’ll take care of you, nii-san. I always will.”  
  
The words were a scratched, bygone record. Itachi had done the same in the worst ways, but Sasuke wasn’t cut from the same cloth.  
  
For him, then, Itachi would ghost Konoha’s grounds. A lifetime of pain could never be erased. For the time being, it was buried.  
  
Itachi surmised Sasuke was confined to the village. Living on the compound’s premises was the leniency allowed to him. Sasuke craved a semi-peaceful life, now. Itachi had himself to blame for their imprisonment.  
  
In the end, Itachi has more to make up for.  
  
At first their schedule was fairly routine. They reconnected. Itachi’s doubts about surviving started to dissolve. He didn’t have to fight or care about the outside world. Here, he cared about his own family. If he could be a pillar to Sasuke at the time he didn’t have anyone, he was eternally grateful to be that person.  
  
How time altered feelings and motivations.  
  
But things changed one day — or, perhaps it wasn’t quite so abrupt. Itachi realized he had gravely miscalculated something important.


	2. Chapter 2

Singlehandedly, Sasuke’s most important revelation was that he could watch his older brother all day long and never tire of him. As time passed, he heeded Itachi’s trepidation while he reacquainted with the house.  
  
To Sasuke, his brother was reunited with a wonderland of memories. That was nice but he didn’t feel the same cordial and homely connection. Regret in its ugliest form. It only renewed his pain to even walk in the house.  
  
But he was . . . Well, saying he was airheaded stretched it thin, but Itachi was hesitant. He paused while organizing clothes like Mother. He ignored the places Father sat. Any areas they used to play as kids (the veranda, their rooms, the kitchen table) made Itachi’s mind wander. He smiled in that muted, off-handed way of his while he thought about forgotten events, which set Sasuke’s blood on boil.  
  
He initially hated the fact his brother’s sight was stolen. He carried his original eyes, and that gift was the most precious thing to him out of the powers that he possessed. Creating Itachi’s body had been an obstacle, but the state of his eyes had been a complication to replicate due to the nature of his death. But it worked out for him; he loved how dependent Itachi had to be on assistance for the smallest mistakes. He called out for _his_ attention.  
  
“Sasuke?” Itachi knelt. He reached out a hand, his face scrunched up a bit while he searched.  
  
Sasuke sprang into action. He picked up the dropped scroll he accidently hit off the shelf, rolling it up for him. “Here it is,” he said, to which Itachi shrugged half-sheepishly.  
  
_I’m his eyes_ , Sasuke thought, thrilled.  
  
Yes. He liked the implications very much.  
  
But Sasuke felt empty and impatient.  
  
In time, Itachi adjusted to the absence of his eyesight. He needed his help but he was also balanced. It was their childhood home, after all. He adapted quickly, because he would not be Sasuke’s competent brother if he didn’t.  
  
More! More trust. There wasn’t enough.  
  
Steadily, he didn’t approve. And . . . Itachi was Sasuke’s world. He wanted Itachi to need him in ways that he wasn’t catching hints of. He had known. Always known he had felt this way. Itachi’s obliviousness to it hit the nail.  
  


* * *

  
As soon as he heard the tap of Itachi’s foot against the stair, Sasuke leapt into action. He caught Itachi’s wrist before he missed and tripped. Either Itachi was tired or not paying attention. Sasuke nonetheless thanked luck; it was an excuse to hold Itachi’s hand. Itachi’s thin wrist fit perfectly in his palm, his fingers wrapping around the bone. Slowly breathing in, he relished the small bit of skin contact.  
  
“I’ll help, you know,” Sasuke offered.  
  
Itachi sighed apologetically. “I can climb the stairs myself,” he said teasingly. He clearly also wanted to show he was well-adjusted.  
  
Again, he was too capable for his own good.  
  
That bit of playfulness added to his charm. Sasuke was caught in its wake. He stared at him, eyes wide with arousal, body tense.  
  
Almost everything about his older brother was as before the massacre except the addition of masculine definition to his features over the years. Now, Sasuke saw him up close and personal without the distance of a prolonged battle or cursed blood spoiling his face at this death; he was confoundingly _irresistible_ in plain view. He drank in the shine of his long, black hair, slightly shorter frame to his, and tantalizing peek of chest through his shirt.  
  
Why had it taken until they had endured so many obstacles to be this blissfully close?  
  
Dazed, Sasuke couldn’t stop himself. For so long Sasuke had watched him, tolerant of his easing back into a new lifestyle. But his gaze on Itachi was sharper than that of even when his sharingan was activated. He desperately needed to touch him. Run both hands on his pale, cool skin in uncharted territory, do more than stop at platonic leisure. He kissed Itachi directly on the mouth. All else be damned.  
  
Stupefied, Itachi staggered. His foot snagged on the edge of the stair. He collapsed into the railing. Not missing a beat, Sasuke grabbed his arm. Although Itachi couldn’t see Sasuke, he understood, with flashes of no doubt, why Sasuke had always been intense and attached to him at the hip. It had always been right in sight but he had overlooked the signs.  
  
Itachi frowned, and his chest tightened. “Sasuke.” He was lightheaded and, to his horror, repelled he had gone that far.  
  
“I’m done hiding this, nii-san.” Sasuke wished he could say he was sorry. In truth, he was only sorry that he hadn’t done it sooner.  
  
Realistically, Itachi should be driven away. But Sasuke was encouraged. Itachi didn’t outright look disturbed, and there may be a chance he wasn’t positive of his feelings.  
  
In that case, he should work harder!  
  


* * *

  
Gradually, Sasuke sped down the dial of his stronger advances. He didn’t like Itachi that put-off because of him. Neither could he fully contain himself. How can anyone in their right mind master an untamable need for Itachi?  
  
Itachi was the only one. So, he went from the ground up and strategized. It started with touches on the arm or shoulder. Then, he proceeded to be as close to him as humanly possible whilst cooking or other chores. If he knew, Itachi would praise his self-discipline. Naturally, his efforts took effect. As time went on Itachi’s desensitization to his stray touches became visibly more and more common.  
  
Itachi surveyed the air between them and shot him stern or puzzled looks. Sasuke was pleased with the latter; he hoped Itachi would soon reciprocate his feelings. Itachi enforced some boundaries, though, and he banned Sasuke from entering his bedroom while he slept. That rule was nothing new — Itachi had demanded space after he came home from extended missions and he missed him — but Itachi pointedly making late night cuddling off-limits was grating this time. He didn’t want to rush him, but he seriously _did_.  
  


* * *

  
Itachi sighed, and he thought back.  
  
Reuniting with Sasuke over the past handful of weeks and settling back into a semi-normal life was the best he could have ever imagined. Nothing compared to that, but Itachi couldn’t deny that he was mentally drained more often than memories served of dangerous missions from the past. That was certainly something.  
  
He covered himself with the futon’s cover, removing the band in his hair. He was ready to forget. Eventually, Sasuke would stop.  
  
The door to his room slowly opened.  
  
“Do you need anything for the night?” Sasuke asked. He stepped into the room far enough that his slipper crunched the tatami mat.  
  
“No,” Itachi assured. And he meant it. He was content, pampered. _It’s a disgrace for my son to grow this dreadfully soft. Stop squandering your potential!_ Father’s gruff aversion to his passive actions scolded. Perhaps Father would be disappointed in him if he saw his daily routine with Sasuke. Despite protests, Itachi was exhausted after Sasuke ran hand-and-foot for him all day. To please him when he was especially wound-up that he wasn’t doing enough, Itachi humored him for little things. Besides, every single day was better than the previous with Sasuke purely there. “You’ve done enough. It’s late, so go to sleep.”  
  
To his dismay, Itachi did not hear the door slide back into place. Itachi braced himself. Rising to expectations, Sasuke’s footfalls echoed across the room. He stayed rigid and upright as he plopped down on the bed.  
  
Sasuke cupped Itachi’s chin. His other hand threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. Itachi’s tear lines looked even longer down his cheeks in the moonlight. And his warm skin, marble and smart, overtly intoxicating.  
  
With such a minor touch, he starved for more. An inch of his delectable skin wouldn’t entirely sate his unquenchable thirst. Try, he must. Sasuke wanted to shower him in the care he deserved for the night! Now that they were in the thick of it, Sasuke’s stark desires became unbearable. And Itachi actually presumed he would silently wallow back to his own room when there was ample room to share?  
  
“Nii-san, don’t you understand? I’m awake at night. I think about you. I dream about you.” His throat felt raw. He couldn’t tear his gaze from his brother’s gorgeous face. Sasuke’s lips were inches from Itachi’s, and his breath ghosted his cheek. “I’ve always loved you. The past is behind us. I-I—“ Itachi’s final poke, goodbye, and the treatment of unfair choices handed to him on a platter flashed before his eyes. Sasuke’s snarl rose deep in his throat. Itachi had accepted it. He couldn’t! “I can’t . . . Please, stop torturing me!”  
  
“Don’t say that,” Itachi whispered, deadpan. His devotion was oddly endearing but also inordinate while he had Itachi cornered. “You’re confused. Don’t delude yourself.“  
  
“Confused? What, and don’t say I love you? Shall I start lying to you?” Sasuke laughed resentfully, chest heaving at the absurdity. “I grew up while you were gone, nii-san. I’m not trapped in a genjutsu. I know what I see.“  
  
The sound of finality in Sasuke’s voice drove an ice shard down Itachi’s spine. How much he had changed. Itachi stiffened. Usually, he knew the exact method to neutralize an outside threat. But when the culprit was his little brother himself, his resolve fell short. Yet Itachi couldn’t give into this behavior.  
  
“I want you.” Sasuke’s arm encircled his waist, and he pressed himself against Itachi’s side. “How many times must I tell you until you believe it? It’s painful. I need you. _Badly_.”  
  
“Listen to me, Sasuke—“  
  
“At least let me sleep next to you!“  
  
Halfheartedly, Itachi swatted away Sasuke’s hand and scooted towards the edge of his bed. It was a weak effort, but he was too tired to counter or rationalize Sasuke’s feelings to him. The shock of Sasuke’s advances had waned. If anything, he saw his own brokenness and awkwardness mirrored in Sasuke’s actions.  
  
Itachi stood. He couldn’t decide how to handle putting him down gently except brush it off. In life he had been cold and standoffish. He must be firm. Neither was this his or Sasuke’s, true intentions for each other. He couldn’t stay and give him the wrong impression.  
  
Sasuke was currently in a phase, that’s all. One day, he would find someone special. That person wasn’t named Itachi. In the present, he was a rebound for Sasuke’s misplaced feelings; he trusted him now, and he didn’t know how to properly show affection. He needed to redefine his life and leave the compound for a fresh breath of air. Perhaps taking care of him so often was stunting Sasuke’s growth in that regard, too.  
  
Itachi had considered this happening. But he needed Itachi there and that defeated him.  
  
“Don’t make mistakes you’ll regret.”  
  
Sasuke watched him shuffle out of the room without incentive for an argument. Sasuke’s fists balled. He glowered at his receding back and the wall of rejection slammed in his face.  
  
Itachi had saved him. He had to repay him.  
  
As far as he was concerned, the final straw was severed. Sasuke would descend into insanity beyond of which confined him to the village should this madness continue.  
  
Nothing would be regretful for Itachi’s sake.  
  
He wasn’t a mistake.  
  


* * *

  
Admittedly, Sasuke had never especially paid attention to romantic gestures. The obnoxious fangirls from Academy days had shoved lush Valentine’s Day presents in his face. Mind, the gifts were none of which Sasuke returned.  
  
So he was sparse on ideas for luring Itachi even a little bit into any type of plan. He liked candy? Mere candy would get him nowhere.  
  
Hand on his elbow, he watched his brother idly stir his morning coffee. The scent of Itachi’s home cooking was appetizing and his fingers cradled the stick so tenderly. Alas, Sasuke hoped for nothing more than Itachi whisking his body into a similar frenzy.  
  
Wait.  
  
If there was one thing that Sasuke thanked Orochimaru for at that point, it was the cord of inspiration that struck at that moment. He had seen him stir enough of his experiments to realize that he could do the same thing.  
  
He looked it up, briefly—effects of foods with properties for sexual enhancement. Preferably, drinks. Itachi had a thing for teas or coffees. It was skeptical. Theoretically, they should help, but Itachi would sniff it out like a breeze. Not exactly the grand finale he was aiming for. Then he wouldn’t trust him with dinner.  
  
Still, this was one thing he was able to bypass Itachi’s radar of boundaries with. The creative way to handle the drink would work itself out.  
  
Yes, Itachi forced his hand a notch.  
  


* * *

  
“I can go,” Itachi told him. He had a pen and notepad in hand. “We need a few things.”  
  
Sasuke’s hand clutched at the doorframe. Usually, he was sly about slipping out to the village, but Itachi caught him. He smiled — he was so considerate — and shook his head. He pried the list from his hands and skimmed it. Moreover, he hated Itachi leaving the house in a disguise and interacting with _them_. To be safe, it was best for his brother to stay put.  
  
“Maybe next time,” he called. He jumped on the grass before Itachi gave a rebuttal.  
  
Later, Sasuke placed the ingredients on the counter. He had bought groceries for a few days. Today, though, he had brought a few secret items that were to his immediate interest he wouldn’t let Itachi put away.  
  
For a while he hesitated. It indeed was wrong. Forcing Itachi. He wasn’t inhumanly obtuse like _they_ were, and he would be damned if the village rubbed off on him and he caused his brother suffering. Waiting for Itachi to cozy up to him cracked the ice he skated on, though. Worse, he was missing the best sex of his lifetime and didn’t even know it! He had to remedy that mishap for Itachi’s sake.  
  
Yes, he may as well give him a boost. Get him in the mood and loosen his nerves about the whole thing—which wouldn’t be that out of the question? Yeah. Not at all. He wouldn’t hurt him. Just moderately help him along.  
  
Surely he was playing coy. He loved him. At some point, Itachi would fall _in_ love too. That was how it worked, wasn’t it? Real love.  
  
What a comfort. He had a goal.  
  
Sasuke mixed the ingredients together, moving the wooden spoon in the glass cup deliberately. The color gradually darkened to a reddish-orange color. No matter how many times he tried, he failed to make it the way he had read up on. The sips he took of the drink didn’t taste the way it was supposed to, although he was predictably even _more_ aroused testing it, imagining Itachi take the cup from him and chug the entire thing.  
  
Not bad for a first try.  
  
How would Itachi react to the aphrodisiac? Would he lament he hadn’t gotten over his inhibitions sooner? Might he purr that he will fuck Sasuke hard on top of it? Indefinitely, dirty talk would be agonizingly delicious, especially from his reserved brother.  
  
“Throw me a bone! In your deep voice, why won’t you say . . . Please, nii-san. . . .”  
  
Abandoning the task at hand, Sasuke put his back to the countertop and unzipped his fly. He pulled himself out and stroked from the head down the base, panting, throwing his head back. He enjoyed every bit of pleasure. Not enough. It wasn’t nearly! The temptations of wish-fulfilment genjutsu sex dawned on him in order to get in quick relief. He scoffed. That was an insult. Fakes wouldn’t do it for his needs. No, the real person was worthy, only—the genuine article that evaded him.  
  
Itachi’s face flashed in the back of his mind and sparked the tip of the iceberg of his lust. When he came, it was brilliant and downright satisfying, high off the power and control.  
  
Eyes narrowed, Sasuke glanced at the cup. It was not an exemplary sample—the lumpy texture was not something he would drink on sight. But the important thing was, he had the key for concocting the salvation to his problems, and he would mix something better. Only the finest for his brother would suffice.  
  
The clock on the wall signaled it was time to check on Itachi. It was his main priority. For tonight, he would dream about possibilities, and he was sated with this one solution.  
  
Itachi would be his.


	3. Chapter 3

Itachi rubbed his eyes. Thirsty, he exited his room. He tip-toed down the staircase to the kitchen, and he wandered to the cupboard.  
  
Tiredly, he searched for a clean cup, but not finding a useable one, he went to the sink. His hand bumped into a glass on the counter. Fumbling to grab it before it knocked over, Itachi’s palm enclosed around it. Whatever was inside sloshed the back of his hand.  
  
Now that he looked back, he forgot the cup while washing the dishes. He should be less clumsy next time. There was no use letting the drink go to waste in the meantime.  
  
Quickly, he downed the contents of the drink. Biting down on the rim, he made a face. It was . . . certainly not his. Rich, thick and creamy, although overall bitter with a grit of ginger and lemon . . . a faint dash of honey? Whatever it was, Itachi’s taste buds were not privy to Sasuke’s peculiar drink choices.  
  
Once he washed the cup out, Itachi turned on his heel. But he stopped cold. His heart wildly thudded in his chest. A river of heat bolted up from his stomach in waves across his body.  
  
His hand trembled, and he did alongside it. Itachi wheezed. Mindlessly, he flailed for the counter’s edge for support. It didn’t fix things in the long run. He dropped to his knees and rested his head on the smooth surface. He breathed in once, twice, three times, but he could not control the feverish onslaught.  
  


* * *

  
Even a few hours after he taste-tested his creation, Sasuke’s system whirred. He had not thought sips from the aphrodisiac would excite him that exponentially, but there he was none too relieved, irritable and awake.  
  
Fantasizing about Itachi fucking him straight into his own empty bed only got him so far.  
  
Hopefully, Itachi was fast asleep. He was a light sleeper, but he would exercise stealth. What his unaware brother didn’t know in the middle of the night wouldn’t be a bother.  
  
When he approached his room, the door was already ajar. He bristled, but Sasuke relaxed the moment he didn’t hear a noise. He crept inside. Slowly, he knelt next to Itachi’s bed. He scooted close until he laid on the outskirt of the blanket. The bed was warm. It was too warm for one person to occupy. The blanket smelled just like Itachi’s rich scent. His cheek nuzzled the edge of the soft pillow. He sighed, forcing himself not to reach for his brother. The urge to bury his nose deep in the curve of Itachi’s collarbone was so strong he resisted and dug nails into his palm. No, he couldn’t screw this up! He must restrain himself.  
  
Lying near Itachi was the only way to cure it. He laid out on his back, fingers creeping down his stomach, palming the tent of his pants to get started. No replacement rivalled knowing Itachi was next to him in direct view. Maybe Sasuke wouldn’t leave. He may actually . . . yes, sleep there until the morning before Itachi woke up. A surely genius plan!  
  
He listened for the regular sound of Itachi breathing. Breathing was good—Itachi was excited for him! He heard nothing. Odd.  
  
The faint sound of glass shattering brought Sasuke back to his senses. He jerked to a sit, vaguely wondering if a burglar was there to find something valuable from the abandoned, half-ruined compound. Someone may have a grudge with him for any number of reasons, too. Why tonight? Irked, he braced himself. He would kick the ever living daylights out of them for daring to distract him from Itachi (or, at least demonstrate enough self-defense that they wouldn’t claim he broke his bargain and harmed a villager out of spite. Sasuke liked his current lifestyle, thank you very much).  
  
Right. Itachi wasn’t lightly breathing.  
  
That meant, then . . . An accident? In the glow of moonlight on Itachi’s bed, he realized he was not there. Sasuke didn’t hear anything else afterwards. He went to investigate.  
  
Sasuke flicked the kitchen light on. The light burned his eyes, and he squinted. “What—“  
  
And that was how he found his indomitable, proud, and composed older brother kneeling. He gripped the leg of the kitchen table. His head was bowed, and he heavily breathed, body shaking. The vase and flowers on the table they used as a semblance of decoration for visitors was splintered on the floor.  
  
Itachi glanced upwards at him as he walked in, wide-eyed and . . . Sasuke’s heart leapt in his chest. That was not the natural expression Itachi always showed him. It wasn’t calm or collected. No, his face was sinfully aroused with his mouth gaping open and cheeks flushed. Vestiges of Itachi’s weakening force to fight the urge were clearly visible too.  
  
“Sasuke.”  
  
Itachi’s body seared like fire at every angle, and his mind became fuzzier, and he couldn’t stop the intensity. He hated not being able to hold himself to standard. Why couldn’t he fight this? His skin prickled, and there was a surge of impending hunger accumulating deep within him that demanded he give into baser instincts. Under the circumstances, he was more or less at its harsh mercy. He didn’t realize how invested he was until he grasped Sasuke’s leg and pulled him towards him.  
  
The warmth of Sasuke’s skin through the fabric of his clothes sent a flare of need within Itachi. That, yes that, was his desire. Deep down, he was furious with himself for allowing this to take place. The thought was stamped out in the ebbing haze of desperation.  
  
Fleetingly, Sasuke felt a smidge of guilt. He had not intended for this to happen . . . Yet. After all, he had planned to be there from the start and watch it take effect! Why was fate so cruel to him he hadn’t seen Itachi unravel around the steams from the beginning?  
  
More importantly, there was a thread of hope.  
  
It was reasonable, wasn’t it? The concoction was meant to amplify Itachi’s libido. If he was opposed, though, he wouldn’t hang on Sasuke like a lifeline. For Sasuke, it stood to chance Itachi harbored similar lust but he had locked in a chamber deep within his heart. And there was no greater motivator than that fact.  
  
“Do you want me, nii-san?” he asked. The restlessness within Sasuke rekindled ten times over, and his expression darkened. All he wanted to do was ravish him. Endlessly, it was gratifying to feel him press up against him. “Do you really, really want me?”  
  
“Sasuke.” He tried to sound serious, but he croaked instead, and he didn’t know how to temper it. Sasuke’s voice echoed in his ears — that persuasive richness of his voice which drew Itachi in and refused to release him.  
   
“You never let me touch you intimately. It’s maddening. You know I can’t live without you,” Sasuke continued. He knelt. Despite Itachi’s mental mantra not to go any further, he snatched the hem of Sasuke’s shirt.  
  
Sasuke smiled. The longer he drew this out, the more delightfully Itachi’s lust grew. He had to make the most of this opportunity. “You always pull away from me. You leave me alone when I want to be with you.” He lifted Itachi’s chin, and yes, the raspy rise in his breath when he touched him was alluring. “It’s about time we settle this. Tell me. You can’t resist me. You absolutely want me.”  
  
Sasuke’s hand was a leverage back to reality, and his overwhelming shame about his own last living blood relative. The brother he had sworn to live with and make happy no matter what. At times like this Itachi was frustrated he couldn’t see Sasuke’s face. Gauge his tone and reaction together. What if he did? Why did he so badly want to see his face now?  
  
Something inside him was apprehensive. It was sprung tight, different from the heat.  
  
Was this Sasuke’s true happiness?  
  
He was in control of his thoughts enough to evaluate that last precipice of a decision.  
  
Perhaps this was what he deserved. Itachi lived at the compound as though he belonged there; he deprived Sasuke of an essential need he apparently craved far more than he did, and he should not put himself above that of Sasuke’s own; but, worse of it, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight his inner demons. The act of it, the adrenaline, was all the more appealing as he denied it. It was too many moral gymnastics to cycle through.  
  
The exertion of it sped up the adrenaline racing rampant in his veins. “Just—”  
  
“Just?”  
  
“Do what you want.”  
  
Sasuke snorted and rolled his eyes.  
  
Oh, but that wasn’t responsive. That was all too apathetic! Itachi strained to keep himself level-headed, and Sasuke didn’t expect less of the former ANBU captain and Akatsuki member. He was the resilient brother he always admired. But sheer willpower would not get him fulfilling his lustful instincts.  
  
He wanted his brother a carnal disaster.  
  
Sasuke dropped eye-to-eye with him. Itachi tensed. He touched his bare arm and traced a path up his forearm. His skin was unsettlingly hot. He kept going and put a palm on Itachi’s chest, rubbed motions up and down his thin night shirt, teased the outline of hard nipples. Sharp arousal jolted Itachi’s groin, and he sucked in a breath, eyelids snapped shut.  
  
Itachi couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
His lips crashed against his. The kiss was sloppy and tricky to find purchase. Clumsily, Sasuke kissed the corner of Itachi’s mouth, and at the angle their noses collided, but they barely registered the pain. It became a game of who adjusted first. Itachi’s mouth opened and his tongue, slick and frenzied, touched his. Sasuke slotted their lips together. Itachi grunted, awakened to heat and moisture.  
  
Not one bit of disapproval from Sasuke.  
  
Sasuke’s hand latched on Itachi’s chest and bunched his mesh shirt in his fist. His leaned in and examined every inch of his pale face while relishing the euphoric rush that this-was-about-to-happen. He was about to do things with his brother he dreamed would come to fruition. Despite that he had kissed previously, none of the people from those encounters were remotely special in hindsight. In his eyes, they were cheap substitutes for the feast; their worthlessness was beneath Itachi completely. Here, he considered such experiences build up for Itachi’s pleasure.  
  
Dull alarm bells rung in Itachi’s head. He still shouldn’t give into impulse. Those inhibitions be damned—his mind was too far gone! Itachi eagerly deepened it. His tongue pushed past the entrance of Sasuke’s silky lips, greedily tasting him. Sasuke’s head tilted backwards. He relaxed, melting as though a heady trance were cast on him. His tongue darted over his own and explored places no one ever had in the meticulous, brazen degree Itachi did.  
  
_Why can’t you always be this enthusiastic_? Sasuke thought. _Always . . . for me_. . . .  
  
He thrived on the fact that Itachi’s attention was solely trained on him. If he wasn’t hard already, he was as hard as diamonds upon that view of Itachi’s lust. And, to Sasuke’s glee, Itachi was as hard as he was when his knee brushed against his leg. All too ready and losing control, his thigh scooted inwards and smacked the front of his pants.  
  
The stimulation caused Itachi to shudder. A song of urgency blared in his mind, and he no longer held back the cracking floodgates of it.  
  
Itachi wound an arm around Sasuke’s waist, his grip iron-clad. He pressed himself into him. His brother’s body was impossibly solid for Sasuke, a tower of strength he wanted to lay on forever. Despite their position kneeling Itachi straddled him. With wild abandon, he humped and grinded their cocks together through the rough, dark fabric of their pants, chests grazing. But their distance apparently wasn’t enough for Itachi. Gasping, Sasuke found himself pinned up against the hard surface of the table leg behind him, and the curve of wood jabbed him in the back each time Itachi shoved him back. Struggling to find a position but not minding pain anyway, Sasuke’s chin fell over his brother’s shoulder. His pants increased, senses on overdrive. With every uncontrolled movement, Sasuke’s black eyes glazed. He gave himself over.  
  
Sweet relief flooded Sasuke’s veins. Orgasm hit him full-force without warning. For Itachi, it was powerful, and he viciously dug dully painted nails into his little brother’s shirt. The fingernail penetrated the thin fabric, and the tip of his finger nicked his soft skin. Dimly, they were aware of the come that dripped through the fabric of their clothes. Itachi’s sharp breath ghosted his cheek. His moan was loud, and he slumped into him.  
  
“Nii-san.” Because hell would freeze before he thought of an intelligible word beyond _that_. Sasuke hugged him and kissed him again.  
  
Sasuke’s thoughts buzzed, refreshed, but he was not satisfied. In the afterglow, the fear occurred to him this may be over if that’s all Itachi had in him. Sasuke didn’t want that. Oh, no, this had to last — Itachi beholding his hidden desires was for their benefit! There were an untold number of fun things he would teach his brother after he regained himself.  
  
Itachi’s mind was a little clearer, now. At least the waterfall of static and blood eased in his ears. All the same, the moment of clarity was overcome when Sasuke bit his lip and lightly rolled it with his teeth. The ravenous hunger in Sasuke’s kiss ignited that need further.  
  
_You_ do _want this_. It wasn’t a truth Itachi had ever believed despite Sasuke’s numerous claims and sly attempts to catch him off-guard. Itachi had thought Sasuke’s confusion would pass. Normalcy might be feasible, even though he couldn’t decide what “normal” meant for a pair of shinobi still picking up the broken pieces of their lives. Perhaps it was the feeling he wouldn’t wonder why he was perplexed after Sasuke walked away from him and the lingering of his experimental touches remained on his skin like a curse.  
  
He had been branded with responsibilities left and right. Why did that feel revolutionary?  
  
As if to disprove Sasuke’s hunch that he ran out of steam, Itachi tugged on the hem of his shirt. Itachi lifted it above Sasuke’s stomach, and his nails skirted his tight stomach and the ridges of his abs. Again, Sasuke was greeted with arousal in his abdomen. Itachi couldn’t stand the shirt and yet it was an out of body experience that he shouldn’t breach that last barrier — skin, skin, Sasuke’s soft and sweaty skin, soft, utterly _sweet_ and flawless. He had to have it on his own! — but Sasuke did not break the intense kiss. To his dismay, Itachi wasn’t able to lift the shirt above his chest.  
  
Sasuke wasn’t sure how it happened, nor was Itachi. But Sasuke pushed Itachi backwards, too immersed in the sculpt of Itachi’s lips to let the shirt distance them. Their arms and legs tangled around each other. They rolled on the floor, kisses less coordinated than the first time. Sasuke’s lips fell from Itachi’s down to his chin and collarbone and the plush of his throat and then hastily sampled his waiting lips once more. Before either of them noticed their struggle night pants and boxers were kicked aside and landed out of sight. The night air was cool. Sasuke didn’t feel anything besides Itachi’s dependence on him; he was bothered and breathless for mouthfuls of the same precious air he breathed. It overjoyed him that his brother was at his gratification.  
  
Reluctantly, however, Sasuke broke the kiss and angled his head away. Itachi’s growl of frustration was music to the ears. He was amused. In fact, he was far more in mood for where he would kiss Itachi next. The saliva around his lips tasted delicious, so like his brother’s forbidden taste, and thoughts of come in its place tempted him relentlessly.  
  
Taking the heartbeat of initiative, he shoved a knee between Itachi’s legs and widened them. Itachi arched on the floor and clutched at his arm. Eyes half-lidded, Sasuke’s gaze landed on his pale thighs, then farther upwards, and his chest tightened with equal parts yearning and possessiveness. Itachi’s cock was hard, and he looked nothing short of appetizing.  
  
Did Itachi not realize how damn long he had waited for him? Seeing Itachi stretched out and naked on the dusty ground after he had brought him back had been pure torture.  
  
Sasuke’s head bowed. He swiped his tongue over the head. Itachi released a hiss; he felt surges of sugar in his veins each time Sasuke licked up the traces of semen from earlier and dribbling pre-come. Sasuke raked his tongue over the slit and swirled his tongue across the expanse of silky skin. He took him deep into his mouth, jaw working to fit him in, holding him around the base. He cupped his balls and rubbed them in his palms. They were drawn taut, just like his thigh muscles. For him, the scent of semen was overwhelming on its own. It was the souvenir from their first adventure into the point of no return and more yet to come. He suddenly didn’t know how he had gone many years of his life without this.  
  
Itachi vibrated violently, heart hammering. His world spun out of control; the line he had etched between them truly erased. Now, he was paralyzed to do anything else at all.  
  
When Sasuke’s pace slowed, Itachi’s hand went to the nape of his neck. He urged him to take him deeper. Sasuke wasn’t quite as used to that – practicing deep-throating had been mindless pleasure for him once, and the only acceptable way to shamelessly lose himself to such desire was with his brother. So. gladly, he complied and took as much of him as he could to the back of his throat. He gagged a bit, his eyes burned at Itachi’s girth. But if each inch wasn’t amazing, nothing was! Itachi wasn’t offended at immersing himself. On the contrary, he threw his head back when he edged him on, ecstasy overpowering him.  
  
Treat Itachi to infinite pleasure while he made him feel the same longing he had without him. It showed him how special he was. That didn’t mean he was ready to give without payoff.  
  
Itachi was much kinder. He had let them both get off, but he wasn’t off Sasuke’s hook. He hadn’t known where this would lead to in the heat of the moment, exactly, but he had first believed Itachi would be on top of him and pounding into him. It was his go-to daydream. Imagining a fresh shade of red covering his skin after Itachi’s held him down and never let go of him was burned into his fantasies. But now that Sasuke thought of it, though, that dream had faded into a smaller flame.  
  
Under Sasuke’s shadow, Itachi half laid, half awkwardly propped himself up. He looked at his brother’s kiss swollen lips, disheveled hair, and disorientated expression. He had a new desire tonight. Oh yes, Itachi’s surrender was amazing. Right then and there Sasuke nearly slammed him into the wooden floorboards.  
  
Sasuke swallowed Itachi’s fluids and then pulled him out of his mouth, squeezing his hand down around the head of his cock. Most of the pre-come trickled down his lips and chin. Itachi practically howled at the loss of the cavern of heat. The addition of Sasuke’s grip stacking the torrent of need in his body was too much to bear, and he didn’t know how the delay felt equal parts annoying, dizzy, and dispiriting. He clawed at Sasuke’s side, which made him wince. Despite the darkness, his eyes glimmered, and his face flushed even redder in his flurry of pent up arousal. Itachi’s face was divine driven to straining heights — a vivid color he had painted there himself.  
  
To be honest Sasuke wished he could say he had the patience to revel in the sight longer. But he didn’t. So he released him, carefully, and he quivered under him, on the precipice of coming again. Itachi vaguely realized the precision he kept everything to his liking; his brother was planning this out along the way.  
  
Itachi gathered himself enough to voice this bit of judgement. “Not an illusion,” he rasped. His thoughts were jumbled, but he processed that he was ahead of himself, looking forward to something unknown. He hoped whatever he was trying to convey was apparent in his voice, but he doubted it. What was he trying to say? Was there anything? Why was his little brother’s aura that of a man who had everything calculated to the perfect number, and why did Itachi feel frozen to the spot?  
  
Sasuke’s head tilted. He looked as though he came to a conclusion. Was this the paramount moment he had gotten through to him?  
  
“I’m not done yet,” Sasuke whispered. His voice was gentle but husky. “I meant every word. You aren’t giving in because you think you have to. I know you do. I know you want this as badly as I do.” Triumph danced at the tips of his fingers. “Don’t resist. Don’t hide.”  
  
And Itachi knew what he meant. Actually, he was too worked up to lament how ashamed he was anymore. By the second he was less and less inclined to recall comprehensible words. Skin. Sasuke’s skin was ridiculously addictive, welcoming. Was he ever starved for more and more skin against his own skin.  
  
Itachi broke down then and there. The need to please and be pleased was interminable.  
  
“F-fuck. _Fuck_ me.” He was aware of how uncharacteristic the words sounded normally, but they felt eerily sound and faithful. His brother’s logic was appealing unlike anything else. Resist — badly — _love_? Why was it wrong to do this when he barely stopped himself from pouncing!? The sensibility filter was shrouded in the foggy mental haze.  
  
It was a sweet melody to the ears. It wasn’t an outright confession but Sasuke _knew_.  
  
His brother asked. He shall receive.  
  
Fixated on bringing more pleasure to Itachi, Sasuke fully straddled his legs. Now that he was here, he had envisioned this too many times to count the other way around. He had to prove himself to him. The others before him hadn’t mattered and this was his brother and he deserved everything he had never given anyone else! No more waiting, he had a goal to carry out — and he prodded Itachi’s legs wider. Sasuke entertained the thought of preparing him, but Itachi floundered under him too wildly to pin, legs hypnotizing. All he wanted was to feel them squeezing him.  
  
But he did have enough foresight to spend a few seconds slathering come and traces of saliva on the head of his cock. Even that was painstaking to spend time on. He gave up.  
  
Swiftly, Itachi’s legs planted on either side of Sasuke’s hips, and he haphazardly angled upwards around his waist. It was a primal urge, something even hyper-attentive Itachi didn’t have to understand but indulge. Sasuke took this help and ran with the force of it; with a hard thrust, he entered him, and he was greeted with a sharp gasp at the pain.  
  
Right away, the tension built within him. He thought he may come right then before he was able to do much of anything. He swayed, steadying himself, calming himself. Nails bit in the flesh of his soft thighs. So, so close.  
  
His brother didn’t know what he did to him.  
  
Itachi’s muscles tensed and he was ever _tight_ and Sasuke’s brain short-circuited while he delighted in the friction his walls enveloped him with. This feeling was a sensory overload, and he mindlessly stretched him wider, slowly at first but out of rhythm afterwards, each time he pumped into him faster. He put to memory how he felt around his cock, skin hot and electric. How his legs constricted him.  
  
He was highly self-aware of Sasuke grinding up against his inner thighs with escalating thrust, his body rigid and raving. Somehow he had thought Sasuke would want him, in his less than self-preserved state, to take the lead (and why would he assume that?). For all intents and purposes, he hated glimpses of those thoughts, because this was it, the thing he couldn’t accept, the odd combination of suspense horrifying and eerily magnificent. The magnitude of everything crashed into him like a dead weight. He loathed and basked in it at once, the utter irredeemable betrayal.  
  
Sasuke slammed in and then finally lost track of the wild movement of his own hips, hitting everywhere without rhyme or reason. Muscles clamped around him the deeper he went. To ensure Itachi didn’t reach the same fate and climax as he nearly succumbed to earlier, he grabbed his cock, holding onto the head.  
  
No one should know this feeling. He was his. In a flash of ire, he sincerely hoped Itachi had never been with anyone besides him. If he had, did it matter? Did it change anything?  
  
Of course it changed the playing field.  
  
He was his brother. _His_ flesh and blood!  
  
Sasuke had brought him back to life. This body was his work, and the sacrifices for that information and result was his handiwork. The reminder of his passion to own his true love sent the coasting of _need_ down his torso.  
  
All Itachi could do was feel each short and frantic thrust, writhe underneath his strength. At Sasuke’s vantage point, he lazily absorbed his expression twist, rhythm progressively out of sync with his – he reeled, out of sorts. He didn’t know how to control himself anymore.  
  
Sasuke’s fingers lost their place. He clawed into his thigh again. Itachi’s cock throbbed in his hand and he firmed his grip. With the pressure, Itachi barely breathed when his prostate was hit and then again. A wave of numbness and pleasure soared throughout his body. His attachment to sanity was promptly thrown out the window, and he moaned at the top of his lungs, head banging against the hard floor. Whatever semblance of thoughts he had left were jarred and shattered. He would have a decent headache later on. Why yes, there were no words.  
  
Itachi’s hands scrambled behind him, and he found stability on the floor, wrists turning for his palms to rest on tile. He lifted his torso off the floor, hips raised, giving access to him and the burning strain of his weeping climax.  
  
The sight of his arched back, head dipped and contour of muscle through his shirt egged him on. His cock proudly bobbing and leaking in his hand was the final straw and undid him. He thrust in one last time, and he released.  
  
At the same time, the whirlwind of pleasure paralyzed him as soon as the hand dropped to the flat of his stomach. He jerked and sagged backwards on the floor, hard, toes curling. He panted heavily, arms and legs limp, and his nerves went senseless. Itachi’s mind drifted from the drain of energy. The drug’s burn in his veins alleviated. He lay motionless.  
  
The come coated his stomach and leg and he wished he could lap it all up. Sasuke took one extra minute and watched. He relished the feel of his come shooting inside his brother and marking him as his and only his. When he pulled out of him, he still felt connected to him. He collapsed forward and landed on his chest. Exhaustion hit them both head-on. His body shut down. Without hesitation, Sasuke curled up at his side, completely sated. He nuzzled a cheek in his sweaty, ruffled shirt.  
  
The tickle of Sasuke’s hair against Itachi’s shoulder was the last thing he remembered before the onset of darkness overtook him.


	4. Chapter 4

His neck hurt. He ached everywhere, too.  
  
At first Itachi didn’t know where he was. The floor under him was cold, and so was he, and pain minutely pounded the back of his skull.  
  
Lethargically, he pushed himself up to his elbows—or, he would have if there wasn’t a weight on his side. Instinctively, his brother bunched his shirt in a fist. Itachi did a double take, startled and awake within seconds, the past night’s events flooding back to memory. The distinct scent of musk and dried come on his skin lingered as reminds of their actions.  
  
Itachi smacked a fist on the floor. How had he allowed Sasuke to get the upperhand! Worst of it, taint his mind with further delusions?  
  
On the other hand, he was nonplussed. The anger stemmed from a swell of anxiety in his chest. Why was that? He tricked him, likely – why was he distressed about discussing this with Sasuke? Why did he feel navigating the issue was an unbalanced tipping point for him? That was the strangest anomaly.  
  
Sasuke was his brother, his only one.  
  
The headache intensified. Itachi clutched his head. His mental image of Sasuke rippled.  
  
“What would I see if I saw you?” he asked. “Or do I know the answer to that already?”  
  
In all respects, he should get to the bottom of this mess; logic said he should shake Sasuke awake and demand an explanation. But he didn’t know where to begin, although he was lost in the turmoil. To which feeling he most wanted to understand, he didn’t know.  
  
Eventually, he hoped he would decide.  
  
Itachi pried Sasuke’s hand off his side. He showed some resistance even while he slept, but he managed easily enough. He scooted away and fumbled to his feet. Wobbling, he stood, hesitating too long. His body ached _everywhere_. And yes, he had been drugged with an aphrodisiac — a potent aphrodisiac, at that. Usually seduction worked by itself on missions (most people were swayed by his good looks like a charmed snake) and Itachi had never used one on anyone himself.  
  
That realization aside, why couldn’t Itachi scrap up the energy and scream at him?  
  
Sighing, he rubbed stress from his temples.  
  
Slowly, he bent and scooped up Sasuke, arm under his legs and around his upper back. Most people would say he deserved to stay there after such a selfish stunt, but Itachi couldn’t find it in himself to leave him on the hard floor. Although Sasuke also wore a shirt he flinched at the amount of uncovered skin. Yet he didn’t feel as reluctant as he had . . . when? When had the prospect of touching Sasuke’s bare skin become insignificant?  
  
The room spun around him.  
  
Grimacing, he walked up the stairs. Like usual, he was overthinking the entire incident.  
  
Itachi deposited Sasuke in his bed. Minutes later, he staggered down the hall and into his own room and flopped on his bed. Lying on his back made him groan at the sharp ache; it wasn’t until then he realized where he _exactly_ was sore. Gasping, he jolted on his side.

>   _Sasuke’s tongue was mind-numbingly fierce the farther he shoved inside his mouth. He showed no mercy. Itachi would bruise later from the way he held onto his inner thighs and squeezed his cock. The desire built up each time he drove in! He was sheathed in him; he filled Itachi up, hard. It was_ good.

The aphrodisiac lit up his system again, but Itachi shut it down with every ounce of his willpower, counting to about one hundred.  
  
In truth, romantically loving Sasuke the same he adored him was condemnable. But it was beyond a shadow of a doubt the feelings were genuine. He should have been less dubious of the obviousness of it. Later, he would choose a method and salvage their relationship.  
__  
That’s the right way to handle this, Itachi thought. _It is what I should do. Isn’t it_?  
  


* * *

  
“Hey, nii-san? Did you fall asleep?”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Che. It’s not even dark. I thought you might want to continue reading,” Sasuke grumbled. Lopsidedly, he smiled to himself. “I see. You spent a long time cooking today, you know.”  
  
Still, Itachi did not respond.  
  
Head tilting, Sasuke watched his outline for the merest twitch. When nothing unordinary happened, he hummed to himself, curious. He stepped up to the edge of Itachi’s futon and knelt on the blanket. He dropped the scroll in his hand off to the side. “I’m not leaving.”  
  
His brother hovered above Itachi like a cloud obscuring the sunrise. There was no feeling of gloom. In fact, his presence was like a shield blocking the farthest skies around them, the unsettling things which may want to rip them apart twice. He sighed internally. _That goes without saying._ Itachi recalled the night he had left Sasuke alone on his bed. Now, he didn’t move or indicate he heard him speak.  
  
Increasingly, Sasuke was less certain he was pretending. At any rate, he had nothing to lose. Still agitated for Itachi’s affection, he grabbed a handful of the blanket and peeled it back, exposing Itachi’s black night shirt.  
  
Itachi had been quieter than usual. And he may have asked for that? No, he would not take unplanned sexual attempts lightly. To curb suspicions of being deceitful in the future, Sasuke should have been careful about where he stored the first experiment and given his brother a properly tailored drink up front.  
  
After all, whether or not he knew about the effects, the insulting thing was giving Itachi something worth less than he was himself.  
  
But Sasuke hated the limbo Itachi stretched between them for the mishap. Even though it didn’t seem he hated him. Was he hiding it? That may destroy him. Swallowing thickly, he decided it may as well be time to explain.  
  
“Nii-san.” Like a screw, his voice tightened, wavered. “Can I say something important?”  
  
The question slackened Itachi’s resolve. He didn’t like remaining so passive while Sasuke confided in him — he sounded like a wounded animal seeking his comfort. A pregnant pause ticked between them. Finally, Itachi breathed through his nose a noticeable fraction louder.  
  
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t decide whether that was a confirmation or a well-timed snore. Either way, he didn’t think he could keep his thoughts in order if he didn’t make them known. Get them off his chest.  
  
“You shocked me.”  
  
The manner in which he spoke was familiar yet feeble. His brother spoke to himself as though he addressed Itachi himself and also wasn’t simultaneously. Bemused, Itachi fell into an uneasy trance, fully invested now.  
  
Sasuke grit his teeth. “I thought you would be furious at me. For having revived you without respecting your wishes.” Who would blame him? They had said goodbye. Not to mention Itachi scolded him often. “Know what? I really wanted you to be harsh and yell at me.”  
  
Itachi frowned. That was a first. Yes, he had considered doing more than yelling, but he hadn’t mustered the willpower to do so. He couldn’t figure out that mystifying reason.  
  
Sasuke sighed. An old flare of bitterness rose up within him, and he hated himself for the pain interrupting their time together. “You have no idea, do you? How hard it was for me to keep my hands to myself. On that day, I wanted to do everything we’ve done. I barely contained myself. It hurt like hell. I almost lost my mind.” He laughed a little too shrilly. “I hated everything. Still do. I did terrible things. I sacrificed those things for you!”  
  
Itachi didn’t know what to make of that confession. He had never wanted him to harbor emotional baggage quite to the degree he gleaned from the hints, but he was not surprised based on what he had heard and seen since being reanimated, and Itachi did not want to know the details of those terrible things right then. However, what stood out to him was Sasuke’s prevalent oversaturation of pain and inability to govern it without him.  
  
“I was scared of death without knowing I’d find you.” Sasuke slipped under the blanket, throwing it over his side. It was so warm. He inhaled; Itachi smelled like the aroma of the dinner they had shared, and he was at peace. “Dying with you was my greatest hope if you rejected me. I was ready to go back with you to the afterlife; I won’t be the ‘heroic’ person you intended. I expected no acceptance for bringing you back. But—“ Emboldened since Itachi wasn’t showing anger, his arm slipped around Itachi’s waist. “You touched me.”  
  
He stiffened and let that sink in. He bit his lip until a bead of blood oozed to stop himself from reprimanding Sasuke, finally, because how could he _think_ of joining him? Fall into the same pit of death he had from pain? It was unforgivable. His blood seethed. On top of it, the crime that rattled him was that he believed he wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t. . . .  
  
Be happy to see him?  
  
The apprehension of reaching for Sasuke’s hand replayed in Itachi’s mind’s eye. No, the action had been automatic. He hadn’t known the act would be held in meaningful regard but the fact it was also equally pleased him. Up until then he had wanted to understand the enigma Sasuke became. Itachi did now.  
  
“You brought me back to the present. I saw a future with us together, and I told myself I had to let things happen naturally. For you,” Sasuke mumbled. His hand settled on Itachi’s elbow. “So, thank you. I knew you would fall in love with me. I’m never letting you go.”  
  
Despite the façade to remain a stone statue, Itachi shivered. Is that what he thought – he had fallen in love with him upon his accord and inadvertently became the sole reason he bothered living. _Did this escalate beyond my ambitions?_ Itachi questioned, astonished.  
  
Sasuke’s breath circled the shell of Itachi’s ear. He lingered for several seconds. Then, he pressed himself against Itachi’s back, molding his body to his turned frame. “Night, Itachi.”  
  
The room quieted. True to form, Sasuke relaxed, and his arms kept Itachi sheltered against him. Itachi listened to him mumble every once and while, and he mulled over his words. What they meant for him. In the end, there was one action to follow through on.  
  
Immobile and drowned in a sea of raging, mismatch thoughts for countless minutes, Itachi shifted. Sasuke’s hand dropped from his elbow and landed across his stomach. He paused at the feel of splayed fingers and his breath on his neck. He didn’t move, or deny that he was comfortable like that. Letting his mind dim and block out every problem he may have had in his lifetime, the village’s distant sounds lulled him into slumber.


End file.
